Lined up for you, yes YOU, today is: Lou&Andy, Carol Beer, and the ever famous Lauren Cooper! From Little Britain and the Catherine Tate Show. Three little one-shots packed into one chapter. "But am I bovvered?"

A/N:- This
started off as a five-chaptered thing, but I decided to mesh them up
and just do this one-shoot! HOPE YOU
LIKIES!!!!!!! Kind of AU, because Owen and Tosh are in this!

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1.
Meet Andy and Lou.

"Have
you found anything you'd like for your birthday?" Lou asked Andy.

"Yep."
Andy replied.

"What
do you want?"

"That
one."

"What?
A 'K-9'. I'm not sure you'll like it."

"I
want that one."

"Are
you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You
do know: once I buy it, it'll be a robot-dog
for life, not just for Christmas. Also, it'll be a big kerfuffle to
take it back to the nice lady, Sarah Jane. You like robot dogs?"

"Yeah."

"Are
you absolutely sure
you don't want to choose something different? Like the big, bat
creature?"

"Yep."

Twenty
minutes later.

"Right,
that's that done! I've bought the robot dog, for you, Andy. Don't
you love it already? Isn't it lovely?" Lou exclaimed, as he bent
over to pat K9's head affectionately. The tin dog jerked its head
upwards and bleeped a "Master" politely.

"Lou,"
Andy said. "I want the big, bat creature."

&&&&&&&&&&

Sneaking
out of his wheelchair and creeping behind Lou's turned back, Andy
reached for the last donut. But as soon as Lou attempted to look
round, Andy sped back to sit in his wheelchair – running around
like the balding, fat, half-naked spring lamb, he was.

"Why
ever not? Yesterday, you said you really reallywanted it. It's very pretty. Look at
it," Lou rattled the large cage, which contained one sombre, bored,
scowling and raw red Krillitane. "I worked very
hard to catch it, wouldn't that be a waste? It's not good for the
environment. Are you sure you don't want it, Andy?"

"Yeah
I know. But I don't like it. I wanna throw it away. I want that
one," Andy complained and pointed to the petit blue box with the
words Police Public Call Box scrawled
across the top, sitting across the road.

"I
thought you didn't like the colour blue. You said it was the colour
of a bluetit's fart."

"Yeah
I know. I want it."

"I
don't think that's for sale, Andy."

"I'm
in a wheelchair – it can be arranged," Andy explained to Lou
blatantly, jabbing his stubby impatient finger in the direction of
the TARDIS – well, the name was unknown to them. He repeated
himself: "I want that one!"

Suddenly,
a man dressed fully in brown, who was bearing scruffy, electrified
brown hair bounded unexpectedly out of the Blue Box. Lou sighed.

"OK
then Andy," Lou said and ran across the road, leaving Andy to
scamper off somewhere again. "Excuse me, Mr Owner of the Blue Box,
could you lend a hand?"

"I'd
love to!" the Doctor said, beaming, obviously unaware of what he
was in for. Especially, 10 and a ¼ minute later, when one fat, able
Andy yelled, "I DON'T LIKE THIS!" from the interior of the
TARDIS, as the Time Machine dematerialised and vanished from
existence.

2.
Enter Carol Beer

Britain
has had rude and unhelpful receptionists for thousands of years, but
Carol Beer exemplifies this fine tradition. We continue our journey
at this hospital in Pennsylvania. The health service is free in
Britain. But here in Pennsylvania, if you want to exploit moulding,
second hand infections, you have to pay for them.

"Whoops!
Silly me, looks like there's been a bit of a mix up. Computer says
Michael Schwartz isn't dead!" she feigned a look of surprise
and slapped her lips with the tips of her fingers, but the girls had
already gone. She stretched her head up to check, before she sunk
back down again and muttered furiously under her breath. "Freaking,
little terrors."

Faking
a smile and blowing a cough, Carol waved off the crying girls –
whom of which she had slowly
offered her service to, displayed impolite, unhelpful behaviour and
offended – all of which without much care or consideration.

Here
we show a flashback of Carol's atrociously 'charming'
behaviour:

"Oh!
Sso you want me
to help you find some old man who's got cancer in Ward 23?"

"Yes,
please," the little girl asked politely. "And he's our
granddad, not just an old man, by the way. Miss."

"Michael
Schwartz?"

"Yep!"

"Let
me just check," Carol irately jabbed away on her computer keyboard.
She looked up with a deadpan expression. "Michael Schwartz… No
such person. Died last week." she said. "You're a bit late."

"But
we saw him yesterday! That can't be true!" wailed the blonde
little girl.

Carol
sighed and rattled the tin of biscuits, "I suppose you want me to
offer you one of these biscuits now?"

They
nodded.

"Computer
says no," she droned monotonously and added in a hiss, clutching a
tin of chocolate biscuits to her chest protectively: "They're all
mine! Don't you dare try to get your filthy paws on them. Why don't
you just get lost and run back crying to your mummies now. Your
innocent, blubbing eyes don't fool me…"

Back
in St. John's hospital - the bubbling crowds of hindered, irritated
patients, careless doctors and smoking nurses suddenly scattered as
low-pitched, robotic voices and furious, puffed stomping filled the
air. The tall, silver metal frames of two cybermen appeared, as they
stomped violently into the room, sending piles of paper flying into
the air. Carol Beer's hair flapped up in the breeze and papers flew
about frantically all around her, but she sat blinking calmly behind
her ugly, thick-framed glasses and sat as still as a statue. Or, in
our dear Carol's case, a rude, unhelpful and uneducated
receptionist.

"Welcome
to St. John's hospital, my name is Carol," she tranquilly asked
the Cybermen clomping towards her. She blinked and frowned grumpily.
The Cybermen approached her and stomped their feet a couple of times
before stopping. "For goodness sake, how long do you take! Thank
you – you got there in the end! Now, how can I help you?"

"You
will be upgraded," the nearest Cyberman commanded, in an
intimidating voice.

Carol
looked unfazed, blinked rapidly and stared at them vacantly.

"Name?"

"We
are the Cybermen!"

"Let
me just check," Carol looked down to her computer screen, and
randomly let her fingers dance across the keyboard., for a very
long time. Until she eventually stopped. "Computer says no."

"Excuse
me?" another Cyberman bleeped.

"I
SAID:" Carol projected her voice into a thick boom, rising from her
swivel chair, as if talking to someone with extremely bad hearing.
"THE. COMPUTER. SAYS. NO."
She quietened her voice in irritation and sank back down to her seat,
tapping the keys once more. "The computer says 'Cybermen' don't
exist."

"Cybermen
do exist –
I am standing right here. Insolence will not be tolerated. You will
be upgraded, or else you will be deleted!"

"Check
again," the other Cyberman translated, with a robotic sigh.

"Wait,
let me just check again for you," She jabbed away at the keyboard,
clearly not intimidated by the Cybermen's threats. In fact, Carol
Beer felt quite the opposite. "Ah there we are, computer's
playing up today. Cybermen – large, metal, 'intimidating'--"
Carol promptly crooked two fingers from each of her hands, for the
latter word. "--creatures." She gave up reading from the screen
and looked up impassively at the Cybermen. "Looks like Prince
Charles, with more of the ears, and gone metal machine, and have
Stephen Hawking's voice, only a whole lot more boring and annoying.
Now, how can I help you?"

"You
will be UPGRADED or deleted."

"Right,
urgent personal problems submission. I'll just get the psychiatric
department for you," Carol settled, (again), tapping away on her
keyboard, pushing her glasses up a notch. She banged and jabbed the
keyboard fervently, before she leaned back and smiled at the metal
men. "Computer says 'do you want Doctor Timothy, Doctor Yana, the
Doctor, Doctor Simjali or Doctor I-don't-give-a-crap'?"

"YOU
ARE INCOMPATIBLE. YOU SHALL BE DELETED," the first Cybermen
declared loudly. "BUT WE WILL SEE THE DOCTOR!"

Carol
promptly 'typed' something up. She shook her head.

"Computer
says no. No such person."

"BUT
WE ARE THE CYBERMEN!"

More
taps at her computer keyboard.

"Computers
says no."

"If
we cannot see the DOCTOR, you shall be deleted."

Some
more jabbing of buttons.

"Computer
says no."

"If
you REFUSE, you will be DELETED. We ARE the CYBERMEN!"

Carol
Beer sighed and tapped away, shaking her head.

"Computer
says no."

An
hour minutes later

"Computer
still says
no."

"Insolence
will not be tolera— Insol— Insol-- Malfunction! Malfunction!"
the Cybermen cried out simultaneously. "KILL US…"

"The
computer says yes.
Now where's that shotgun?"

3. And
finally… Welcome Lauren Cooper!

"Why
we be in Cardiff, though?" Liese asked
Lauren suddenly, leaning over the slick, black railings. She gestured
the great Welsh signposts and huge area around her.

"DONNA!"
a man yelled, interrupting, his voice a thick drawl of American.

Lauren
and Liese turned around just in time, to be joined by a crowd of five
people, the tallest stood at the front – Military Boy.

"What
you lookin' at?!" Lauren demanded bluntly, her hoop earrings
jangling as she jerked her head at Military Boy.

"Donna,
it's you! You look… different! Your accent's changed! No
complaints from me, I like a girl with an accent," Captain Jack
waggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, but 'Donna'
merely blinked. He frowned a little. "Anyway, where's the
Doctor?"

"Who's
Donna?"
Liese asked in confusion.

"And
who are you?"
Captain Jack asked the pretty, young girl next to 'Donna'.

"You be
well ugly. You're my type." Liese replied.

"My
English teacher was the Doctor," Lauren put in. "He couldn't
speak English – all I could hear was Martian."

The
Military Man laughed good-naturedly and his
four accomplices swapped raised eyebrows, "Great joke Donna! Now,
where's the Doctor? I really need to find him, the Rift has--"

"Who are
you weird people, though?"

"Oh,
good thinking Donna, I haven't introduced Torchwood to you yet!"

"D'you
fire up wood or summat? 'Oo's 'Donna'? Your pet monkey? Stop
callin' me Donna. It's not funny, Military Boy. You don't even
look good. You from the government? I don't care if you are, 'cos
ain't bovvered. Are you from the government?"

"No,
Donna, we're not. Torchwood is a private association," Jack was
clearly confused
by all means, at this point, but continued. "We're outside the
government and beyond the pol--"

"Can
I aks you
a question?" Lauren interrupted and pointed at the Welsh lady with
the jet-black hair and slender figure – otherwise known as one Gwen
Cooper. "I said, can I aks you a question, though?"

"She
is Gwen Cooper, senior--" Captain Jack tried to answer.

"Who she
work for though?"

"She
works for Torchwood."

"Does she work for Torchwood?" Lauren pointed at Gwen again.

"Yes. I
already said tha--"

"Does
he work for Torchwood?"

She
jabbed a finger in Ianto's direction, this time.

"Yes.
Now, if you'd just--"

The
Captain was cut off again.

"Does he
work for Torchwood?"

She
pointed at Owen, who winked at her.

"Yes,"
the Captain answered through gritted teeth.

"Does
she work for Torchwood?"

Lauren
pointed at Toshiko.

"Yep,
now you know--"

The
Captain caught Lauren's gaze and she jabbed an inquisitive finger
in Jack's direction.

"Do
you work
for Torchwood?"

"Yes,
of course I do! Is there something wrong with--"

"Does
she work for Torchwood?"

"They
all work for Torchwood," Jack explained with a sigh.

She
was currently pointing back at Ianto again.

WHAT WAS
GOING ON WITH DONNA?!

"Are
you very sure that some nasty alien hasn't taken a chunk outta your
brain and changed you or something, Donna?"

"You're
being rude to 'er," Liese joined in. She doesn't like it, when
guys are rude. Unless it's Ryan. She likes Ryan. He's well cute."

"No,
I'm not, I'm just trying to find out--"

"You're
doin' it again! You're bein' rude!"

"I'm
sorry, but…"

"You in
the army?"

"No,
I am not
and--"

"I
think you're in the army, though."

"But
I'm not!"

"Don't
you think so Liese?"

"Yeah,
mate. Tell me about it."

"I think
we need to get you back to your mother and--"

"Oh,"
Lauren's face dropped into a disgusted 'o' shape and she looked
at the Captain with demonic eyes. "Are you disrespectin' my
family? You disrespectin' the house of Cooper? You are? You callin'
my mother a good-for-nothing cow? You sayin' my father's a badly,
redundant pushover?"

"Donna,
no, whoever you claim to be,
I assure you – I am not disrespecting your family. Now, just please
let me help--"

"But,
he ain't even redundant, though," Lauren continued, ignoring
Jack, with eyes to the sky and hands jerking about in mimicking
gesture. "'E's not even redundant.
He's jus' busy… Got betta things do than sit in the office and
fix mugs, righ'. Sittin' on the couch, watchin' telly, righ'."

Captain
Jack chortled with laughter suddenly and looked back to his team.

"Once
you remember, who you are, Donna – call me," Military Boy handed
Lauren a small piece of card, with a mobile phone number and name
scrawled all over it.

Lauren
stared at him blankly, "I don't do Military Boys."

Lauren
held it up in front of her face and ripped it up into tiny, little,
white shreds. She dusted off her hands, as she let them float onto
the ground. With that, Jack sighed and revved up the SUV and left
Liese and Lauren on an empty street, in Chiswick.

Lauren
suddenly stared at the ripped shreds of paper on the floor, "You
think I should call 'im?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&A/N:-
YEP! I cheated, a bit… The last one was more Torchwood than
anything! HEEHAW! Hoped you enjoyed reading it and *showers with
rainbows* to anyone who cares to post a review! They're muchio
luuuuurved!

=D =D
=D =D =D

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.